


Chef Bob-ardee

by IBoatedHere



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Cooking, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mention of Jack's overdose, passing mention of Jack/Kent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9125731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBoatedHere/pseuds/IBoatedHere
Summary: Bob cooks for the ones he loves.





	

~~Coq au Vin Roast Chicken~~ /Hamburgers and Fries

Bob reads the recipe three times before he starts just so he’s sure he knows what he’s doing.

It’s simple but elegant and he hopes it’s enough to impress Alicia.

According to his teammates he’ll need all the help he can get.

Most of them don’t even believe she’s agreed to go out with him and they all balked at the idea of him cooking for her instead of taking her out.

_“That girl is already so far out of your league and you’re going to make her sit in your apartment for the whole night? Take her out. For god’s sake Zimmermann, it’s not as if you can’t afford it.”_

But he’s confident in his abilities. He’s been cooking for himself since he got drafted and he’s never had any complaints.

He checks the chicken for the fifth time in twenty minutes (just because he’s confident doesn’t mean he’s not nervous) and is smoothing out the wrinkles in his dress shirt when there’s a knock at the door.

He already has two glasses of wine poured and he debates back and forth about whether or not he should bring one with him when he opens the door. He’s not sure if that’s too pushy or presumptuous. He’s not even sure if she drinks- when he met her the first time at that charity event she was drinking water even though there was an open bar. Maybe she hates the taste of alcohol. There’s brandy in the pan sauce. He could have just ruined the whole night. He should have listened to his teammates. He should have taken her out, given her more options.

There’s another knock.

He’s keeping her waiting which is even worse and in a moment of panic grabs the wine glass and practically runs to the door, slowing his steps as he gets closer so she doesn’t hear him.

Alicia’s hand is raised to knock again when he throws the door open.

“Oh,” she says, “I was getting worried. I thought you had forgotten about me.”

She’s beautiful. Her blonde hair brushes the tops of her shoulders and he can tell that the dress she’s wearing beneath her wool coat fits her like a glove.

“No, never,” he says and he can feel his face heating up. “How could I ever forget you?” “Well, aren’t you a charmer? Is that for me?” She reaches a hand out for the wine glass. Her nails are painted a baby pink.

Bob hands it over and she takes a sip. She’s still standing in the hallway.

He opens the door wider and makes a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Come in, please. I’m sorry.”

She laughs as she breezes by him. “I was wondering if you were ever going to do that or if I was going to have to eat my dinner out there too.”

“I’m sorry. I think I’m nervous.”

She switches the wine glass from hand to hand as she shrugs off her coat. He really should be helping her but he doesn’t think he can move. He was right about the dress. It’s black and sparkles.

“There’s no reason to be nervous, Bob.”

He disagrees. She is way out of his league.

“Do you have a glass for yourself?” He nods.

“Maybe you should go get it.” She sits down on his couch and offers him a warm smile. “We’ll talk.”

*

He wants to know everything about her.

They sit on the couch, close, but not touching.

She kicks off her heels and sits with one leg tucked under her and he rests his elbow on the back of the couch as he listens to her talk about her family and friends and career and what she’ll do after.

“I know this isn’t going to last forever,” she gestures towards her face and Bob feels offended on her behalf. “Women seem to have an expiration date in this business.” She leans forward to refill her glass. Bob brought the bottle over with him.

“You’ll always be beautiful.”

It’s Alicia’s turn to blush but she covers it with a sip of wine and a roll of her eyes.

“I’m serious. I can’t imagine anyone ever saying otherwise.”

“You’re sweet.”

“You’re incredible.” He touches her hand where it’s resting on her knee she doesn't pull away. “You work so hard and you give so much back. That scholarship fund for your old university. That’s going to help so many kids.”

“That’s hasn’t happened yet.”

“But it will.”

“You have an awful lot of faith in me already. We hardly even know each other.”

“I just know a good thing when I see it.”

“Well that’s.” She pauses and sniffs at the air. “Do you smell smoke?” He does and it takes a few seconds to realize it’s coming from inside the apartment. From inside the oven.

“My chicken.” He’s off the couch and skidding into the kitchen with Alicia right on his heels. He opens the oven door and more smoke billows out. He pulls out the roasting pan (Alicia shoved a pair of potholders at him- thankfully, he wasn’t even thinking about them) and sets the burnt chicken on the stove. It’s almost unrecognizable. “I forgot to set the timer.”

Alicia opens the sliding door to the balcony and grabs a dishtowel to help wave the smoke outside.

“I can’t believe I forgot to set the timer,” Bob says as he rests both hands on the counter next to the stove. “I was going to and I got distracted. You knocked and then we got to talking and I guess I just lost track of time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh no,” he spins around to face her. “It’s not your fault. I love talking to you. I should have been paying better attention. I should have just taken you out like everyone told me to. You deserve to have a nice night out. Something fancy. Not this.”

“Oh, Bob.” She puts a hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “I didn’t need anything fancy. I would have been happy with going out to get a burger and some fries.”

He looks down at her and wonders if this is what it feels like when you start to fall in love.

There’s a package of ground beef in his fridge and rolls that aren’t terribly stale in the bread box and he’s pretty sure he has some frozen fries in the back of his freezer.

“You know,” he says. “I think I can do that for you.”

Alicia takes off her rings and helps mix the beef with salt and pepper and forms them into patties.

Bob pours the potatoes onto a baking sheet and slides them into the oven and Alicia stands close to him as he heats the cast iron skillet to cook the burgers.

She rubs her hand across his back when he asks her to cut the tomatoes into slices and tear up the lettuce.

She’s hopeless with a knife and Bob stands behind her and wraps his arms around her, covering her hands with his own, to show her the proper way.

She turns her head and speaks directly into his ear when she says “this was your plan all along wasn’t it, Bob?”

“I’m only trying to make sure you don’t lose a finger or five. You should really be thanking me.”

They cut four perfect slices of tomatoes together and then Alicia kisses his cheek. “Thank you,” she says and he blushes. Hard. Her laugh is light and airy as turns away from him to check on the potatoes.

They eat sitting side by side at the breakfast nook. He brings over a candle from the dining room table and lights it as Alicia puts way too much ketchup on her burger.

Their knees press together and Alicia hooks her ankle around his.

She dips a potato into some of the ketchup that’s fallen off of her burger and onto her plate and nods along as he tells her what it was like to win the cup for the first time.

She takes a huge bite of burger and licks off the grease that runs down her wrist.

He watches her and knows that this is what falling in love feels like.

 

Pb&J

 

Jack stands on a stool in front of him with his tiny hands deep in raw bread dough.

His play clothes are covered in flour.

Jack laughs and holds up sticky, dough covered hands and soft tufts of black hair tickle Bobs chin.

It took him an hour and forty five minutes to fall in love with Alicia but with Jack it was immediate.

He'd listen to his teammates talk about their children for years but never really understood what it would feel like until Alicia told him he was going to be a father.

Bob cleans the big globs of dough off Jack's fingers and before he can grab a towel to take care of the rest Jack’s already got his fingers in his mouth.

“That’s fine,” Bob says as he lifts Jack off the stool then puts the dough into the bread pan.

“Now?” Jack asks and Bob scoops him up and carries him on his hip.

“It’s not ready yet. It has to puff up again and then we bake it and then we can eat it.” He tickles Jack beneath his chin and delights in the way Jack starts to giggle.

Alicia is doing press for a new movie she’s producing and Bob has stacked the day with activities for him and Jack.

He’s missed many milestones in the three years since Jack has been born.

He’s had to watch first steps on grainy film and listen to him saying Papa for the first time over tinny connections from pay phones in airports.

It’s a guilt that he carries with him, one that Jack hasn’t begun to notice and Bob is dreading the day when he finally does.

But until then he’ll take every moment they have together and try to make it memorable.

They’ve spent the day playing and skating. Jack is still very unsure on his skates but Bob swears he’s getting better and better each time they go out. This morning he was able to let go of him and Jack skated a full foot before Bob had to grab him.

The bread had been a spur of the moment idea. He had forgotten to buy it the last time he was grocery shopping and took a chance that it would be exciting enough to hold Jack’s attention.

It was.

Jack was completely focused on him as he explained how the yeast worked and after Bob washed his hands twice he let Jack mix the flour and instead of running off to play while Bob cleaned up the kitchen he pushed his stool in front of the bowl and watched the dough rise for an hour and a half.

Bob watched game highlights on the tv in the kitchen so he could keep an eye on him but Jack didn't move until Bob told him it was time to punch down the dough.

Now he carries him up the stairs to his room for his nap and even though Jack squirms and whines he's asleep before Bob makes it to the top step.

Jack fusses when he lays him down but Bob makes soothing sounds until he quiets.

“I know, bud,” he whispers. “It’s hard work.”

It’s hard enough that Bob has to take a nap on the couch downstairs. He’s still young, despite what the rookies say, and in excellent shape but chasing a toddler around (even one that’s content to stare at dough) would tire anyone out.

He wakes in time to get the bread in the oven and again when the timer goes off.

The sound of it is enough to wake Jack and Bob races up the stairs to get to him.

Jack’s cranky and clingy like he always is when he gets up from a nap but he perks up when he sees the bread sitting on the top of the stove.

“Is it done?” Jack asks and when Bob nods he starts to squirm.

Bob shifts him to his other hip, further away from the hit bread pan. “Not yet, not yet.” He grabs the jam out of the fridge (blueberry- he and Jack made it last weekend with berries picked from bushes in the backyard) and a jar of shelled peanuts from the cabinet.

He puts the peanuts in the blender and lets Jack push the button.

It's loud and Jack presses his face into Bob’s chest until the peanuts start to smooth out.

Bob shuts it off before it's completely creamy and pops the blender off the base.

The bread is still warm when Bob cuts four slices.

He dips his knife into the peanut butter and holds it above the bread.

“The secret,” he says and Jack leans in and looks up at him with his big, blue eyes that remind him so much of Alicia that Bob needs to stop and kiss him on the forehead. Jack laughs and god, that sounds like Alicia too. “The secret is to spread the peanut butter all the way to the edges. Same with the jam. That way you get some in every bite.”

The peanut butter melts over the warm bread. So does the jam. It’s going to be a mess to eat but that makes it even better.

Jack asks him to cut it on the diagonal twice to make four triangle shaped pieces. It’s how Bob has always cut his own sandwiches, despite the chirping from his teammates.

Jack patiently waits for Bob to make one for himself before he takes a bite.

“Is it good?” Bob asks and Jacks answering smile is toothy and full of peanut butter. He laughs and grabs a napkin to wipe Jack’s face but it gets just as messy with the next bite and Bob gives up.

He lets them both enjoy the moment.

 

Pizza

 

“Dinner is in an hour, Jack. You’re not eating that. Put it back.”

Jack rolls his eyes and drops the Pop-Tart back into the box.

“You know the rules.”

“It’s a stupid rule.”

“Jack.” Alicia snaps and Bob shakes his head and holds a hand up to her. Jack’s a teenager. They should be thankful he’s talking to them at all.

“I’m sorry you think that and someday when you have your own family you can make your rules but for now that’s the way it is. You shouldn’t even be eating those. They’re full of sugar. Who bought those?”

“I did,” Alicia says as she turns another page in the magazine she’s reading. She levels Bob with her gaze. “They’re good.”

“They unhealthy,” Bob says as he stirs the soup he’s making. “How much protein is in those things?”

“Not everything is about protein, Bob. Sometimes things just taste good.”

“Things can be healthy and taste good.”

Jack heaves a sigh to get their attention. “I’m not even going to be here for dinner so what’s the point?”

“Where do you think you’re going? It’s Sunday and we’re all together. That doesn’t happen often and we’re eating together.”

“A friend invited me out to dinner with him.”

Alicia drops her magazine and lights up.

“Which friend?”

“A _friend_ , Bob.” She raises her eyebrows and Bob knows that look. He knows that Jack has a hard time finding people that accept how intense he is, how hockey comes first and everything else comes in at a distant second. It’s a big deal for Jack to call someone his friend.

“Invite him to dinner.”

“We were going to get pizza.”

Bob turns the burner off. “That’s fine. We can make pizza. If I get the crust made right now there should be time for it to rise.”

“Papa, please.”

“Invite him or don’t, but you’re eating here with us.”

“Mom.”

“You heard your father.”

“He’s going to embarrass me.”

“When have I ever embarrassed you?”

Jack and Alicia share a look before they turn their eyes on Bob’s _Kiss The Cook_ apron.

He sighs and unties the strings. “I’ll change.”

Jack doesn’t move and Bob tips his head towards the cordless phone as he lifts the apron over his head. “You had better call him and let him know the plans have changed.”

Jack huffs and grabs the phone off the charger. He dials as he walks down the hall to his room.

“Ask him if he needs a ride over. We’ll take him home as well.”

Jack raises one hand and presses the phone to his ear with the other. Bob barely hears his greeting before he closes the door to his bedroom.

“Soup is really better on the second day anyways,” he says as he starts to round up the ingredients for the pizza crust. “Now I won’t have to make dinner tomorrow _and_ we can meet Jack’s friend.” He pinches at Alicia’s side as he walks by to pull flour and yeast from the pantry.

“A friend,” Alicia repeats.

“I know.” He measures out ¾ cups of warm water and sprinkles the yeast over it. “I’m nervous.”

Alicia laughs at the same time Jack laughs in his room and they both look down the hall then back at each other. They haven’t heard him laugh like that in years.

She pats his back. “You better make sure this is the best pizza dough you’ve ever made, Bobby.”

*

Kent Parson isn’t starstruck when Bob opens the door for him with his son hot on his heels.

He doesn’t ask to see the rings or the indoor rink. He doesn’t ask what Wayne Gretzky and Mario Lemieux are really like.

He does flick a piece of red bell pepper at Jack and ask Alicia about the charity she’s working with and when he laughs at Jack’s corny jokes it doesn’t sound sarcastic or condescending. It sounds genuine.

Bob slides his and Alicia’s pizza into the oven and leans in close to her.

“I really like him,” he whispers.

Kent’s eating a ball of raw dough and Jack’s looking at him in disgust until Kent opens his mouth to show it all chewed up and he bursts out laughing.

“Jack has a friend.”

“Mmmhmm,” Alicia hums.

“I really think they’ll be good together. I mean, I’ve seen them play and I’m so glad they’re getting along off ice as well. Isn’t it great?”

“Yes.” She doesn’t take her eyes off either of them. Kent adds extra, extra cheese to his pizza and Jack watches him with a fond smile. Alicia narrows her eyes. “It’s great, Bob.”

 

Onion, mushroom, spinach, and cheese omelet

 

It’s close to midnight when Bob comes downstairs and finds Jack sitting at the kitchen island.

He’s slowly dipping a tea bag in and out of a mug of hot water and doesn’t look up even when Bob drums his fingers against the marble.

“Can’t sleep?” Bob asks and Jack takes a moment before he shakes his head.

It’s not that Bob blames him. They had a brutal group meeting with Jack’s therapist this afternoon that had Alicia crying and Jack repeating every terrible thing he’s ever heard about himself. Words that he now believes are the truth.

_Failure, disappointment, embarrassment._

They play in a loop in Bob’s head. He knows Jack heard them first from sports commentators and Bob knows which ones. Ones that will never get another interview out of him. That’ll never have his respect again.

It doesn’t seem like enough.

It never will.

Towards the end of the session the therapist asked Jack if he was sleeping and Jack had nodded.

“Does this happen often, you not being able to sleep?”

Jack shrugs one shoulder and drops the tea bag so he can wrap both hands around the mug. He still doesn’t look up. “I just can’t tonight.”

“Just tonight?”

Jack drags one hand across his face and Bob knows to back off. It’s too late for this. It’s dark waters that Bob doesn’t know how to tread.

“Well I can’t sleep either. Do you mind if I stay up with you or would you rather be alone?”

“Doesn't matter.”

Bob suppresses a sigh and busies himself with opening the fridge. They all picked at their dinner, too emotionally exhausted to put any real energy into eating and now it’s catching up with him. He pulls out a carton of eggs and a stick of butter.

“I’m making an omelet. Do you want one?”

Jack takes a sip of tea. “I’m not hungry.”

“When was the last time you ate something?”

“Dinner.”

Bob stares at him with an egg in his hand, holding it right above the bowl ready to be cracked. “I really don’t think that was enough.”

Jack finally looks up and the light from above the kitchen sink casts shadows across his face making his jaw and cheekbones look even sharper than normal.

Jack hasn’t been skating or working out. He hasn’t been sleeping or eating. He’s already lost too much weight.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Fine,” Bob says as lightly as he can. He cracks the egg, not bothering to separate the whites from the yolks like Alicia would like him to do these days, and does the same with four more eggs. He breaks the yolks with a fork then starts to whisk them. “You know, when you were little you used to help me cook all the time.”

“I don't remember that.”

It sounds like a lie but Bob doesn't call him on it.

Bob grabs an onion and some mushrooms and a package of spinach out of the fridge.

“What kind of cheese do you want?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not eating it.”

Bob grabs the sharp cheddar, Jack’s favorite, anyways.

“You really don’t remember cooking with me?” He asks as he gets a knife from the butcher block and a cutting board down from the cabinet. “Pancakes and pasta every kind of chicken you can think of. We made bread. You don’t remember the bread?”

“Kind of.”

“You loved it,” Bob tells him and pushes the cutting board and the onion towards Jack. “You can make some new memories. Chop that for me.”

Jack’s tentative when he picks up the knife and the onion and starts making awkward and uneven cuts and Bob winces as he comes very close to slicing the tip of his finger.

“You're just as hopeless with that as your mother was.”

Jack sighs and drops the knife. “Sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Bob says. “You can learn. If I can teach your mother I can teach you.”

He shows him how to hold the knife with his thumb and index finger and how to curl his other fingers around the handle. Then he shows him how to cut the onion by keeping the root on and cutting vertical first and then horizontal.

“And then you slice through.” He makes a few cuts and shows Jack the perfect dice. “Keep your fingers curled as you move them back. That way you don't cut yourself,” he explains softly and hands the knife back.

He watches Jack make a few cuts before he really starts to gain confidence. “How much do you want?”

“Cut up both halves as practice. I’m sure I’ll use the rest for something. Cut the mushrooms up when you’re done. Wipe them off with a damp paper towel, pop the stems off and slice them.”

Bob gets the onions cooking in a pan while Jack washes and slices. When he’s done he tosses the mushrooms in with the onions and adds a couple handfuls of spinach so it can start to wilt.

He sets a second pan on the stove and turns the burner onto medium heat and adds a few tablespoons of butter.

Jack’s eyes go wide and Bob chuckles.

“Butter is the key, Jack. The eggs will stick if you don’t use butter.”

“That much butter?”

“No such thing as too much.”

“Mom will be mad at you.”

He brings a finger to hip lips and swears that Jack starts to smile.

Bob pours the eggs in and shakes the pan before stepping back and letting them cook.

“I hope you’re remembering how to do this. Learning how to cook for yourself is a very important skill. And impressive. I’m not saying it’s guaranteed to land you a wife but it’ll certainly help.”

Jack frowns down at his tea.

“What if it’s not a wife?”

Bob’s mind goes blank. He’s not sure he’s breathing and the eggs are going to burn if he doesn’t do something with them.

Then he’s horrified at how Jack might interpret his silence and he clears his throat and turns down the burner.

“Well, last I checked men liked to eat too. Food is food. People are people. You know how excited we get when your mother makes waffles.”

“She burns them.”

“It’s the thought that counts.”

Jack huffs and Bob is counting that as a laugh.

He asks him to grab a plate and a fork while he spoons the onions, mushrooms and spinach onto the eggs then tops it with cheese before he folds it over and slides it onto the plate.

Jack’s holding two forks when he turns around and Bob wordlessly sets the plate in the middle of the island so they can both reach.

“I think I want to coach,” Jack says when they’re a few bites in. “For a little while. You know, before….” The rest of his sentence drops off like he doesn't know how to end it. And that’s okay. “Do you think I could? Do you think their parents would let me?”

“You want to coach kids?”

His eyes drift down to the plate. “Kids don’t know who I am. They won’t know what I’ve done.”

Bob feels like he’s close to tears and the omelet has gone tasteless in his mouth as he swallows it down.

“You can be anything you want to be, Jack. You can do anything. I think you’d be a great coach for however long you want to be one. The kids would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks,” Jack says quietly.

They finish eating the omelette in comfortable silence. Bob leaves the last bite for Jack and waves him off when he starts to help with the dishes.

“Go up to bed, Jack. You should get some sleep.”

Jack hovers behind him as Bob plunges his hands into hot, soapy water.

“Dad?”

Bob hums.

“I remember the bread,” Jack admits quietly and Bob looks over his shoulder at him. “Can we talk more in the morning?”

“Yes. Anytime you need to.”

Jack’s expression slips into something light as he nods and turns away to back to his room.

Bob doesn’t turn back to the dishes until he can no longer hear Jack’s footsteps.

 

Pot Roast with Potatoes and Biscuits 

 

Jack looks shocked when he opens the door for them. He has a good reason to be. They are five hours early.

“What are you doing here?”

Bob jostles the reusable grocery bags he’s caring and shoulders his way past his son. “Move it, bud, these are getting heavy.”

Alicia is right behind him carrying lighter bags so she stops and kisses Jack’s cheek on her way in.

“What’s going on? What’s all this stuff?” “Dinner,” Bob announces as Alicia starts to unpack her bags. She pulls out two bottles of wine, red and white.

“We weren’t sure what Eric preferred so we brought both.”

“I thought we were going out for dinner. Hours from now,” Jack says as he finally closes the door. He’s all dressed for practice and Bob feels a twinge of guilt that they didn’t call first. Or at least text.

“We wanted you two to feel comfortable,” Alicia explains. “This way you won’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or doing the wrong thing while in public. There’s no pressure here. Nothing to worry about.” She puts the white wine in the fridge, wedging it between two pie plates. “Plus your father wanted to try out this pot roast recipe.”

“Pot roast?”

Bob is crouched down and digging through the bottom cabinets looking for a suitable pot to cook in. “Pot roast, potatoes, carrots, rolls. The works.” He pops his head up to look at Jack. “Eric does eat meat, doesn’t he?”

“He does but you really don’t have to do this. Bittle and I are used to going out and acting like we’re just friends.”

Alicia frowns and Bob sighs.

“I know that sounds bad but it’s getting better. I told Georgia and Marty. We’re having dinner at his house with his wife soon. He’s really supportive and I feel a lot better about telling the rest of the guys and-.”

He stops when Alicia pulls him into a tight hug.

“Baby, that’s wonderful.”

Jack shrugs and rubs his hand against the back of his neck. “It is.” Then he clears his throat and drops his hand. “But you really don’t have to go through all this trouble.”

Bob dislodges a dutch oven from the back of the cabinet and pushes himself upright. “Jack, please let your old man cook dinner for you and your boyfriend. When was the last time he had a home cooked meal that he didn’t have to cook himself?”

“I cook for him all the time.”

“Aww,” Alicia says as she pinches Jack’s cheek.

Jack ducks out of the way and walks backwards towards the door, grabbing his bag off the couch as he goes. “I have to go to practice. Bittle isn’t supposed to get in until 4:30 so…”

“We’ll survive on our own, Jack.”

“I’ll keep your father from burning your apartment down.”

“Ha. It’s the other way around. I’m keeping her as far from the stove as possible.”

Jack stands there adjusting the duffle bag on his shoulder with his eyebrows drawn together.

“Everything okay, Jack?” “I’m fine,” Jack says and his eyebrows smooth out. “I’ll be back later.”

Bob and Alicia share a look as Jack closes the door and then Alicia is turning into the pantry.

“Oh, Bob, look at this. This is stocked floor to ceiling.” She sticks her hand out to show him a bag of chocolate. “This is the best chocolate money can buy and this vanilla.” She gasps. “Ina uses this brand. We’ll have to tell her next time we see her. Do you think Eric would like to meet her? We could set something up.”

Bob leans on the counter and hangs his head between his shoulders.

“Alicia, what have I done?”

Alicia starts to unpack the bags. “What are you talking about?”

“Eric bakes.”

“I know. We had that pie at Jack's graduation and those cookies he sent home with Jack over winter break and- _oh_ , you don't think he's had feelings for Jack for that long do you? I know everyone moves at their own pace but I wish Jack would have figured this out sooner.”

“No. He bakes which means he probably cooks and if he cooks like he bakes…..”

“I'm not following.”

“It means he's probably fantastic at it and he's not going to be impressed with me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. It is vital that I impress this boy. This is our future son in law.”

“Bobby, I think you're skipping a few steps here.”

“Am I, Alicia? Our son is 25 years old. Have you ever seen him this happy? Has he ever talked so openly about someone he has dated? This is the real deal, baby. Eric is it and I am thrilled but I am having a crisis right now.”

“I don't think I've ever seen you this worked up.”

“I have a good reason.”

“Bobby.” She rubs a hand down his back. “We’ve met him before. He’s kind and sweet and he’ll be so touched that you even thought about cooking for him that he won’t care how it turns out.”

“If he tells me bless my heart, Alicia, I'm done for.”

*

Alicia ties an apron around him that has a pie embroidered on the front of it and Bob calms down enough to get the onions, carrots, and meat browned. He uses red wine to deglaze the pan while Alicia peels potatoes for him.

He gets the roast in the oven and sits down next to Alicia. His leg bounces up and down and Alicia puts her hand on his knee to stop it.

“Have some pie, Bob, it’s delicious.”

“Too nervous to eat.”

“Bob, really. How many Stanley Cup finals have you played in?”

“This is different. This is more important.”

“He’s going to love you, Bob.”

“He can love me but is he going to love my pot roast.”

“You are ridiculous.”

He rests his forehead on her shoulder and takes a deep breath.

They both look up at the sound of a key in the lock and the door opening.

“Honey, are you cooking something? It smells great but I’m really gonna need the oven if I want to get these pies baked before your parents get here. _Oh.”_

Eric almost drops the grocery bags he’s holding when he sees the two of them sitting at the counter.

“Oh.”

Alicia puts down the potatoes and wipes her hands on a dishtowel before she steps up to Eric with open arms.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Eric.”

Eric stands there with his hands at his side and then suddenly snaps out of his shock. He drops his bags and wraps his arms around her. A bottle of cooking spray rolls across the floor and Bob picks it up.

“It’s nice to see you too. I’m so sorry. I’m just surprised is all. I wasn’t expecting you until later.”

“We weren’t expecting you either,” Bob says as he stands and holds a hand out to Eric and pulls him in for a hug when he takes it. “Jack told us you weren’t going to get in until 4:30.”

Eric looks down sheepishly. “I might have skipped my last class to come down early. I wanted to make a pie or two for you before you got here. Are you making something? It smells delicious.”

Alicia elbows Bob and smiles.

*

Eric teaches Bob how to make biscuits as an alternative to the rolls that he was going to make.

“I used to make these all the time with my Moomaw. That’s my grandma.”

“Yes, Jack’s mentioned her.”

“Has he really?”

“He talks about you a lot.”

Eric looks warm all over as he cuts the butter into the flour with his fingertips.

*

Jack comes home when all three of them are sitting on the couch going through one of the photo albums Alicia has brought with her.

“Mom, no, please.”

“Too late, sweetheart.” Eric kneels on the couch and leans over the back of it, relaxed and happy thanks to a glass and a half of wine. “I’ve seen everything.” He grabs Jack by the front of his jacket and hauls him in for a quick kiss.

Jack makes a surprised noise but kisses back.

“You were adorable.”

“I really wasn’t.”

“I saw Shitty without his mustache,” Eric whispers, like he’s afraid Shitty is going to hear him.

“Freshman year? Did you skip a class? You didn’t answer my text when I asked.”

Eric pauses and curls his fingers tighter into the fabric. “Without his mustache, Jack.” He turns around and slides back onto the cushion. “Can I have a copy of that?”

Alicia gently pulls it out of the album. “You can have the original.”

“I think I’m going to frame it,” Eric says and holds it like it’s a prize.

Jack ruffles his hair and goes to the kitchen to store his water bottle in the fridge.

Bob trails after him to check on the pot roast even though he’s not supposed to be peaking.

“Eric’s great, Jack. But I guess you already knew that.”

Jack smiles in the direction of the living room.

“Thank you,” he says suddenly and Bob waits for more. “His parents.”

“They don’t know?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything. He’s not sure how they’ll react so you two being like this...with him. I know it really means a lot.”

“You don’t have to thank us for that, Jack.”

“I never thanked you for being so….supportive of me. About everything.”

“Jack-.”

“No, not everyone has that.”

In the living room Alicia and Eric laugh and both Bob and Jack turn towards the sound. Their fond smiles are mirror images of each other.

“We love you, Jack. And we love Eric. You know he taught me how to make biscuits.”

“That sounds like him.”

“A whole stick of butter.”

“Yup.”

“He says we’re supposed to put more butter on them.”

“Yeah. Or honey. Sometimes both.”

“Oh boy.”

“It’s a real struggle.”

Bob shrugs. “Not for me. One of the perks of being retired.”

Jack laughs and Bob pats his shoulder.

“You’ll find out someday.”

 

PB&J Part II

 

“The secret,” he says and Olivia leans in to listen. Bob taps the tip of his finger to the tip of her nose and when she laughs her red curls bounce. “The secret is so spread the peanut butter and the jam all the way towards the edges so you get some in every bite.”

Olivia looks at him with wide eyed fascination as Bob dips the knife into the raspberry jam.

“You know your papa and I used to make jam.”

“I made that with daddy. We picked the raspberries.”

“We used to pick blueberries. I think he ate more than he picked. He used to stain every shirt he was wearing when we made the jam.”

“Daddy bought me an apron.”

“Your daddy is a lot smarter than I am. I just did more laundry.” He tops the sandwich with another slice of bread. “Now how do you want this cut?”

“Papa says we’re not supposed to eat this close to dinner. It’s a rule.”

“I see. Do you want to know another secret?”

Olivia nods.

“Sometimes grandparents don’t always have to listen to the rules. Sometimes we make our own rules.”

“Papa is going to be mad.”

Bob tips his head to the side and cuts the sandwich down the middle. “Is he?”

Olivia thinks and then shakes her head. Jack’s stint as a pee-wee coach taught him a lot about patience and Bob hasn’t heard him even raise his voice since they adopted Olivia.

“It can just be our secret, okay?”

“What is this?” Jack asks. He has a full laundry basket balanced on his hip. “Dinner is in an hour. You know the rules. Both of you.”

“It’s only one sandwich, Jack. We’ll split it.”

“Rule are rules.”

They stare at each other, not willing to back down. The only sound is Olivia’s feet hitting the chair as she swings her legs back and forth until Eric breezes into the kitchen and takes the basket from Jack.

“It’s just one sandwich, honey, let it go.” He stretches on his toes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for getting the laundry, I’ll fold.”

After all these years Jack still watches him walk away with a small smile on his face.

“You can have the sandwich but you’re splitting it with me too,” Jack says as he pulls out the chair next to Olivia.

Bob cuts the sandwich on the diagonal twice and Jack hands Olivia one of the triangles.

“This is how Papa cuts my sandwiches.”

Jack takes a bite and curls his arm around Olivia’s tiny shoulders. She leans into his side as Eric swings by and grabs the fourth piece off the plate on his way to the kitchen to check on dinner.

This is everything Bob ever wanted for his son.

Jack swallows his bite and kisses Olivia on the head.

“Yeah.” He smiles at Bob as Olivia takes a huge bite. “Where do you think I learned it from?”

 

 

 


End file.
